Reincarnation

Rebirth, Part 2

"This isn't a dream."

She repeated the same words to herself as a mantra, pulling her back to reality whenever she began to doubt that what she was seeing was real.

Everywhere she looked, it seemed as though she was making up fantasies in her head again, but there were those subtle thumps in her chest that reminded her that she still exists in the physical plane.

A few minutes had passed since she regained consciousness, but in her amazement, she continued to inspect each part of her body. Her body felt light and easy to move, as though she had returned to her old self from months before she contracted the incurable illness.

The girl felt like a plant which was revived from its untimely demise, showered back to life by the otherworldly cry of the world—the rain.

As she examined her body's functions, she noticed her hair swaying from side to side. It bounced gently in the air, with a light and flexible quality to it.

As a child, her hair was so dark brown that people often mistook it for black. She had to use light to reveal the subtle chestnut tint in its strands to others.

Her hair used to fall down her back, and she loved it that way until she was hospitalized. It became difficult to manage, so she cut it short, to about neck-length, to make it easier. However, when she did—

—it felt as though she was no longer herself.

She had to give up everything she associated with herself to have even the slightest chance of easing her last moments. She let go of all the things she enjoyed—her favorite foods, her daily routines, and, worst of all, the optimism she had always been proud of.

When she was admitted to the hospital, there was no way for her to confirm if she was still herself. Sure, she felt she was who she thought she was, but when stripped down to the bare minimum, what truly defines a person?

"...White?" The girl clutched her hair.

Her hair now shone with the brightest shade of white, a blend of every color. It had a beautiful shine, feeling magical to the touch and possessing a dreamy, ethereal quality. She felt like she was part of a fantasy novel—almost like a girl who ran a potion shop while pursuing her dream of becoming a mage. Hell, it was one of her favorite tropes.

"When did I..." Have that hair color? She wanted to ask to herself, but kept the words solely in her mind. She clasped a bit of it, feeling its smooth and ethereal texture in her hands. A wistful feeling engulfed her heart, and a sigh escaped her. "This could have been beautiful if I still had my long hair..."

Was this part of an elaborate prank? Did she write this down as one of her wishes before she passed away? Although she had never been tempted to dye her hair white, making the 'wish' theory unlikely.

As she was mulling it over, a click on the room's door startled her, almost making her instinctively go back to lying down on the bed as though she was a small child being caught staying up by her mother—this was a situation that was much more important than wondering about her hair color.

A nurse went inside, bringing a clipboard and pencil, sighing deeply as she entered, but not until noticing the supposedly unconscious patient sitting upright in the bed.

THUMP!

She dropped the clipboard and pencil in an instant, her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the patient who had been declared to 'have a negligible chance of ever waking up again' just moments ago. The nurse covered her mouth with her hands, as if trying to stifle her gasp.

A shaky voice came out of her vocal cords; she looked as though she had to force the words out from her mouth in disbelief.

"Miss... Adventia?...Y-You're... awake?"

"...Apparently?" The girl answered meekly. She wasn't even sure if she was alive or just hallucinating; all she knew was that she could move and respond again. Even as she told herself that it "wasn't a dream", she didn't exactly have any evidence to back her statement up.

The nurse quickly ran out of the room and slid the door shut—but the girl could hear her talking to other people outside in a panic, with a much louder volume on her voice as opposed to her shaking whispers earlier.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open again, and the nurse wearily brought an entire group into the room.

Among them was a middle-aged man in glasses and a white coat, with a noticeable squint in his eyes. Throughout history, doctors have been seen as angels by their patients, either guiding them to the next life or healing them with their skilled hands. This man was no exception. His white coat gave him the appearance of someone fitting that description—if angels were fond of wearing business suits underneath their garments, that is.

"...My goodness. This, this... is a miracle," the doctor muttered.

With the doctor were three adults: her older brother and her father, both males, and her mother, a female, along with a small girl—her youngest sibling.

They all shared the same look of disbelief and relief, despite their somewhat different appearances. While each had the family's signature dark brown hair, it was easy to distinguish each of them.

Her father, Christophe, was known for his casual, homely outfits—cargo pants, polo shirts, and the like. Her mother, Emilia, had an innocent and polite demeanor, with her hair tied to the side of her shoulders. Her youngest sibling, Alcienne, appeared as a very kind child, with a priceless smile on her face. And then there was—

Elliott, her gentle and caring older brother, who stepped forward to her bed. Tears filled his eyes—indeed, all of them were in tears—but his eyes were redder and more worn than the others. He gave her a heartfelt embrace, one she would remember for a long time.

His voice cracked as he tried pushing his words out. "...Damn you, Estella, you jerk. Don't scare me like that."

Her brother always cared deeply for both of his siblings. Though he appeared quite strict (and he was), there was a certain aura of security and consideration about him that Estella always felt whenever she was with him.

She reciprocated the hug, putting her arms tightly on his back.

"...I'll try my best."

There were no more tears left to cry; only relief washed over her face, like waves on a beach on a warm summer day. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "...It feels like home again."

A warm and calming atmosphere settled in the room as the sun slowly began to rise, reminiscent of the calm after a storm—the hopeful rebuilding of what was once lost, the morning after a dark night.

The youngest child in the family tugged on her mother's sleeve.

"Does this mean Tella won't have to go away anymore?"

Such a simple question, yet one that made her mother break down and almost drown in her own tears. Emilia gave her youngest child a huge embrace as well.

"Yes... yes. Your big sis Tella won't have to go someplace far away now."

In that moment, everything seemed perfectly fine in their little corner of the world.